


Terms And Conditions

by slightlyjillian



Series: Numbers Alternates [9]
Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-02
Updated: 2010-10-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 09:09:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlyjillian/pseuds/slightlyjillian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mafia AU. To celebrate their peaceful alliance, Hotel Moscow accepts the invitation to join the Numbers in some friendly competition.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Terms And Conditions

Hotel Moscow didn't interlope on the territory of the Numbers except on the ten year anniversary of their mutual treaty to remain distant allies. Thirteen had successfully hosted the most recent gala celebrating their alliance, so spirits were at ease about this next arrival of their international guests.

Une had allowed Aretha to join the committee to prepare for the assembly, a costume party and an exclusive performance at the opera house. Six offered the vast property of the Peacecraft holdings for contests of marksmanship as well as the more subtle skills of their profession. Afterward she had delayed opening her own stables to the events, but she refused to reconsider simply because Six had the glorious prestige of pleasing Thirteen first.

She couldn't just skip the Peacecraft sponsored events either.

Une didn't look up from her cell phone even when she felt the car come to a stop. The distinction between the cool shade inside the tinted windows and the brilliant daylight was shocking as Hilde opened the door.

"Enough work," Hilde scolded, holding out her hand until Une surrendered the device to her secretary. "I'll keep that for you in case of emergencies. What do I need to do for you to actually enjoy yourself?"

"Sign me up for the firing range," Une said, surveying the crowd. She recognized everyone who strolled among the tables and decorations. Their guests had not yet arrived. The weather was perfect, just warm enough but not too hot. A breeze carried pleasant scents from the floral gardens and blossoming trees. She gathered Hilde into her arms and spontaneously kissed the other woman on the forehead.

Flustered but with a happy glow over her face, Hilde mumbled, "You're already on the list."

***

Balalaika knew that the military transport was not exactly subtle, but Hotel Moscow did not travel as civilians. No matter how much her brother hinted at _"maybe a limo this time, Laishka?"_ Moreover, the city's Numbers should have prepared for any contingency. The legend of their Russian compatriots would pale when compared to reality.

Boris sat on her right, arms crossed and a steady gaze directly ahead watching the road with almost owl-like periphery. Even with the obvious remains of his injuries to his face, that skill impressed the unsuspecting enemy, or friends. She might have smiled, and in that reliable way of his, Boris immediately noticed what could be considered her good-humored expression.

"It doesn't seem like you're inconvenienced by this trip," he said, with a brief hesitation at the end where he wanted to say _captain_. Instructing her subordinates not to use their more formal etiquette of address for the duration of the festivities was going to keep Boris on his toes.

 _Just as well,_ Balalaika resolved. _I can't get him to take a vacation, or even waste an hour sight-seeing when on recon. Let him get a taste of relaxation… if only this much._

She rolled down the window to be greeted by the staff person manning the gate to the property. A brief widening of his eyes amused her immensely. He recognized her, and did not expect her to be driving or in the front.

"Ma'am," he said, with confidence and a sharp salute. "Simply follow the cones for parking."

She leaned back in her seat, following the route indicated. "Boris, I intend to enjoy myself, if it's at all possible. I trust you're already planning on keeping the peace, so at least trade off a few hours with Vladimir or Max."

"I might." Boris did smile at that, once again proving the man was more at ease when she gave him permission to work.

Before she could get out of the vehicle, the next jeep suddenly appeared a few inches from her door. Lazily letting her gaze drift upward, she failed to smile at the cheerful grin of the passenger, her younger brother. It didn't help matters that he had Dorothy Catalonia half in his lap and nipping bruises at his jaw. Three in the front, Vladimir was obviously driving under the influence--the somewhat carefree influence of that same half-brother, Danil Nichol. He rolled down his window indicating she should once more do the same.

"I can't get out," Balalaika started.

"Hey sis, did you decide if you're going to compete this year?" Nichol interrupted, finding it more necessary to say what was on his mind rather than listening--yet again.

"Danya," she huffed, affectionately-always with that baffling affection. She knew that her cold attitude fooled no one who knew her well. And Nichol was self-centered enough to believe she loved him simply because he was her younger brother. They had the same mother, although seventeen year-old Balalaika only lived for a short time with the man who was Nichol's father before taking a Number and swiftly swearing allegiance to the independently motivated, international subgroup, Hotel Moscow.

When they were both made orphans five years later, Balalaika brought Nichol to live with her. She put him into the best boarding schools as she fashioned Hotel Moscow to her liking.

Even now he was merely an honorary member, but she saw potential in him. Pieces of what made her a natural in matters of the underground would briefly manifest in his judgment and intellect. His youthful façade became an all the more glaringly unsuccessful attempt to keep his secrets from her.

He wasn't so spoiled that he didn't deserve her attentive care. She simply wished he didn't try so hard to diminish his own interests in order to be who he thought she wanted in a civilian brother.

He persisted in concealing his sexual preference, for one. Nichol's relationship with Dorothy troubled Balalaika due to the layers of deception between them. Although, having endured the majority of the journey with that pair, Vladimir Walker might have started to guess at the true reason behind Nichol's particular request for his Hotel Moscow escort to be his handsome, young, and male friend.

"Hey, Walker, I can't get out." Nichol tried the door only to have comprehension light in his eyes. "You parked too close," he told Balalaika, teasing in his tone.

"Walker, if you wouldn't mind," she said, cutting her eyes to the young recruit among her organization.

"Yes, of course," Nichol's new friend swallowed several times fighting the urge to call Balalaika by title and still show due respect. He'd simultaneously gone more pale upon realizing what consequences might come with entertaining a particular relationship with Balalaika's brother.

"Oh, are we here?" Dorothy pulled herself away from Nichol's chest. She seemed dazed as she took in their surroundings, but then she fixed Balalaika with a direct appraisal that was nothing less than a deliberate challenge.

 _She thinks she's using Nichol. She must know he's using her, but what sort of expression is_ this? Balalaika waited patiently. It was one virtue she excelled in regardless of all her other crimes.

***

Aside from the few Hotel Moscow boys and girls that remained in partial uniform the crowds wandering between the various amusements seemed a common people at their leisure. Relena had made sure that the carnival employees were discrete and watched with undisguised pleasure at the growing line for the Ferris wheel.

"Pleased with yourself?" Aretha observed, approaching from a brief tour of the booths. She had a sample of the cotton candy, which she offered to Relena.

"Like I've said before, it's refreshing to plan something that doesn't ruin a rival's reputation or end up suspended in the red-tape." Relena tucked her hair behind her ear so it wouldn't continue to intermingle with her candy.

"You are often given impossible tasks to spin for the public, but it is a gift," Aretha tilted her head.

"You have gifts too, Aretha. Are you quite certain you won't resign from Eleven's service? She does have that new girl after-all," Relena asked, slyly watching for Aretha's reaction. The older woman had been fiercely loyal to Eleven during her rise to power and influence. Much speculation about the two women had crossed into conversations between the Numbers, but Relena knew the truth. Eleven hadn't dropped her defenses in matters of the heart. Not once, until Hilde Schbeiker.

"I think Heero Yuy managed to dunk your brother into the tank with one throw," Aretha countered, coolly.

Relena frowned. She knew she deserved no less, but it seemed unfair that while Heero had rejected them both, he managed some sort of begrudging friendship with her brother. "Well, Milliardo plays that role."

"That's the choice we're given. You're the one who insisted on nothing less than everything." Aretha shifted her weight to walk toward the brightly colored flags in the open yard. "The first competition is underway. Will you join me?"

***

Quatre continued to stare at the stopwatch. The breeze ruffled his hair but it did little to hide him from the expectant stares of the crowd. It didn't matter if he called the time or not. The difference was so remarkable that even Relena had noticed it with a gasp.

"How do we know this wasn't rigged?" Mueller shouted into the stunned silence. Along with his best friend Alex and several other contestants, they all glared at the smug Russian who still waited for the announcement of his victory.

"Rashid?" Quatre deferred answering to his co-host of the safe cracking competition.

"Each of the devices had been thoroughly inspected…" the large man began. A small crowd started to gather. Initially the contest had been observed by only a few of the Hotel Moscow contestant's friends, but more of their international guests came closer to see for themselves the outcome.

Quatre lifted the bullhorn to call out the time, but the equipment and the stopwatch were taken from him.

"Danil Nichol is the safe cracking victor with twenty-seven seconds," announced Trowa Barton to the cheers of the Hotel Moscow representatives. Afterward, he relinquished the items he'd stolen and gave Quatre a dazzling smile. "He was rather fun to watch, even if it was somewhat premature satisfaction. I wonder how he'd handle something that required more stamina?"

"Trowa?" Quatre breathed a shaky laugh. His heart stuttered from the surprise arrival of Three. "I didn't think you were going to be here."

"I'll have to thank Rashid for covering my absence." Trowa tilted his head up to look at the sky, then back down at the dark-haired representative of Hotel Moscow. "But I woke up with a strange sensation, as if I might find something I'd misplaced."

Quatre observed Danil Nichol amidst the hearty-slaps of congratulations and a curvaceous blonde who wrapped her pale arms around his neck. A few of the boys who worked for various Numbers offered concession to Nichol's performance, but Mueller had stomped away toward the firing range.

"I suppose I should go collect him," Trowa added thoughtfully with a decisive nod.

"He's not yours to keep," Quatre corrected, a troublesome premonition crawled across his shoulders. "Trowa, that's Balalaika's brother."

"Very collectible then." Trowa's eyes wrinkled with happiness. "Come on."

"Thirteen is going to put you back into the zero chamber if he thinks you aren't properly socialized," Quatre protested, letting Trowa pull them both along. "It was hard enough convincing him to let you out last time."

"Thirteen," Trowa said with disdain. "If anyone, Thirteen will understand how my possession of this man benefits the Numbers."

Sometimes Trowa's reasoning was terrifyingly sane. Quatre surrendered, "Just be more discreet. Don't call it _possession_ and if he isn't interested…"

"Oh, he will be," Trowa laughed, then he released Quatre's arm to glide between the circle of people and to Nichol. Quatre couldn't hear what Trowa said, but the Russian man turned an impressive shade of purple. The blonde woman laughed. She looked around and met eyes with Quatre.

For a moment, Quatre thought he might understand Trowa's desire to _take_ whatever he wanted.

***

"So you brought him with you this time." Sally Po took the seat opposite at the picnic table. She tore a bite-sized piece from her soft pretzel and chewed thoughtfully.

"Ten years ago he was only a child," Balalaika commented around the edge of her beer bottle. She had to quarrel with the bartender at length to get him to open the cheapest item for her. But something about the inferior taste reminded her of the precious, lesser joys in life. That was what she wanted to savor most.

"Has he been training with you? I heard that he won a competition earlier,"

"Danya doesn't ask me for anything," Balalaika did not hide her grin for a true friend. "It's been a few years, Sally. You must be doing a better job of catching your criminals before they escape the country."

"I have a new partner," Sally shrugged. "He's more driven than I am."

"More driven than the girl who infiltrated a military airport all on her own?" Balalaika remembered the surprise at finding someone had apprehended Trant Clark before Hotel Moscow arrived to clean up the man's mess.

"Wufei's a good man," Sally said with an edge of weariness. "It's almost all I can do to keep him from becoming a target."

"Without drawing attention to yourself?" Balalaika watched the clouds as they swiftly traveled across the sky. "That's a trouble I know all too well. But in the end, they'll do what they want to. Jeopardize their lives, die, fall in love with the wrong person… and we did what we could." She took a drink. Lowering her gaze she saw her brother, moving like a storm cloud after a slightly taller, slim man.

The stranger quit moving and turned just in time for them to collide. His smile leered while Nichol continued in some verbal tirade. His finger punctuated each argument into the other man's chest. Dorothy was nowhere to be seen, and Vladimir Walker slouched in defeat trailing Nichol at a much slower pace.

"Who's that with Danya?" Balalaika asked.

"Ah, well. Your brother won the safe cracking contest spectacularly. But he's lost every challenge since Trowa started participating. Three is versatile in his abilities," Sally explained.

"He's not just losing," Balalaika took another drink. "He's losing badly."

"Well, you have sheltered your Danya from our lifestyle," Sally reasoned, gently. "Three has been a number longer than I have. The youngest Number Thirteen has ever assigned."

"Danya has had no interest in it." Balalaika took the last of the pretzel from Sally's plate. "So why would he suddenly bother signing up to these tasks in which he knows he has no skill?"

Sally laughed generously. "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

***

Vladimir Walker was having a difficult weekend.

When Nichol had asked Walker to join him for the festivities, the young soldier had expected something different for the weekend. He knew that he'd earn Balalaika's respect if Nichol had a safe and carefree journey. They got along well. Nichol's favoritism had already earned Walker some attention among the ranks. But then Dorothy had something else in mind.

"He'll take it. You won't," she had whispered into his ear when Nichol had drifted to sleep in the jeep.

"I really don't think this is a good idea," he had kept his voice low. "Even if he says it's just in fun, it wouldn't be real. I don't want to be the one to fool him into thinking it's something more…"

"He likes you, but he doesn't love you," Dorothy had reassured him with a scoffing laugh. She had drawn a finger along his sleeve while Walker had resolutely watched the truck in front of them. Balalaika was up there. Dorothy had traced his ear then her nails had raked through his hair. "And if he does fall for you, let me take care of that. You won't have any problems."

"No," Walker had hissed. But the idea had gone round and round his thoughts for the next several hours. After that point, all of Dorothy's affectionate behavior had seemed nothing more than bad acting. Nichol had woken after they crossed the city limits. His actions had carried a cheerfulness than appeared more of a burden for the man than a sincere joy.

After the safe cracking victory, Walker realized he hadn't seen Nichol genuinely smile before that instant of self-won triumph. That revelation explained why Balalaika terrified everyone with her singular protectiveness for her brother.

Then the stranger who introduced himself as Three had broken their circle of loud laughter and boasting of Nichol's unexpected skill.

With an aloof glance at each of their faces, Three had finally asked Nichol, "My best time is twenty-two seconds. You could have opened it in seventeen. So why were you fooling about for the other ten seconds?"

"What did you say?" Nichol had chuckled in disbelief. Dorothy laughed, then dropped her arms from around his neck to fuss with her hair.

"I suppose safe cracking is your only skill?" Three continued, moving to stand between Dorothy and Nichol.

That burst the dark-haired man's temper. "Why? Who do you think you are?"

Which was how Walker had ended up spending the majority of the day signing Nichol into one contest after another only to lose miserably to Three's greater skill. It didn't even matter if someone took the first prize from them both. All that seemed to matter was how they ranked against each other. Dorothy had grown bored and abandoned the repetitive behavior while Walker couldn't abandon his charge.

He had to listen to a recounting of the events as he and Nichol retreated to the hotel to get ready for the evening's masquerade. Walker already had put on his centurion uniform, and he adjusted the professionally weathered belt around Nichol's pirate costume. Then repositioned the wide-rimmed hat.

"I don't know why I feel like I have to prove myself to him." Nichol became quiet after that confession.

"We like you the way you are," Walker attempted to be reassuring. They stood motionless, toe-to-toe.

Nichol frowned, "None of that seemed to matter after what he said."

Struck with a sudden impulse, Walker leaned in pressing his lips along Nichol's cheek. His nose rubbed against the thick side burns. Neither of them moved for a long time, until Nichol pushed Walker away, leaving his hands along Walker's bare arms. He wouldn't look at Walker and, instead of blushing, he seemed to have lost all his color completely.

***

"Congratulations, Eleven," Balalaika correctly identified the woman in the crimson ball gown with a simple white mask. "I heard that you made it to the final round with Boris."

"He is an excellent marksman," Eleven conceded.

"You represented the Numbers well," Balalaika said, setting her hand along the hilt of her great-grandfather's sword. With only a few minor changes, the costumer had perfectly replicated the old general's uniform with the excessive bronze snaps and loops of material. "If not for Boris and Danya, Hotel Moscow would only have won minor victories."

"Games are simply games." Eleven accepted a drink as it was offered to her. Balalaika declined, wishing she could have a cigar instead.

"Sis." Nichol came around the corner. Seeing Eleven for the first time, Balalaika's brother hesitated only briefly before acknowledging her. "Ma'am."

"Well done today," Eleven complimented. She smiled in a fashion that even Balalaika would call wicked. "I can think of more than one occasion in which I could have used a person of your skills and resources."

"Ah," Nichol seemed at a loss as to what to say. He attempted to sound light-hearted, "It was mostly luck. I'm not best suited for Balalaika's world, if my subsequent failures are any indication."

"One reported that he'd never seen Trowa Barton more lively. We possibly owe you thanks for getting that boy to enjoy himself." Eleven's grin tilted to where a pair of clowns, one male and one female, were out-performing everyone else on the dance floor. "Catherine couldn't resist following him here." The clowns finished with an acrobatic pose of impeccable balance. "She does object and moan that Thirteen recruited her baby brother."

Balalaika thought she might like to meet this Catherine. They possibly would understand each other.

A breathless Three noticed them and approached, giving Nichol a skeptical once over. He lifted one brow, but that was all that could be seen for the mask that covered the right side of his face. "Cliché," Trowa said. "Who's idea was the pirate? I would have dressed you quite differently."

"And a clown is any better?" Nichol retorted.

"I'm a trapeze artist," Trowa informed with delighted emphasis. Then with a swift movement reminiscent of the performer he was impersonating, Trowa whirled Nichol away and into a dance. Balalaika couldn't make out the exact words of her brother's loud protests, but she noted that he didn't overly resist.

"Who is that person who got Trowa to smile?" A petite, young woman with short dark hair appeared at Eleven's side.

"May I have my phone back?" Eleven replied with a question of her own, completely distracted by the new arrival.

Balalaika turned to exit the large, opened doors and stepped out onto the open balcony. The moon was nearly full and she leaned on the thick railing in a completely unladylike manner. She only stood up again when a gloved hand offered her an expensive looking cigar.

"Yes, please," she accepted the freshly lit object of her addiction.

"It's congratulatory," Treize Kushrenada said. "Although, it does seem I should be offering you a full dowry."

"No." Balalaika blew smoke into the night. "If a dowry's involved it would be owed by Hotel Moscow. But are the benefits sufficient enough for you to take on the responsibility?"

"Whatever your brother wants," Treize chuckled. "He seems to have succeeded in smiting Three where the rest of us have failed my young Number."

"Well, I'll leave you with the same warning I issued his headmasters." Balalaika savored the renewed energy in her limbs. The cigar was only the beginning. Thanks to her baby brother, she had the upper hand. "Don't stop him from make his own mistakes, but if he comes to any harm…"

"I'll avenge him with my own sword," said Treize, with the same infuriating arrogance that motivated Balalaika to join Hotel Moscow all those many years ago.

"Oh don't stop there," she sneered with good humor. "Because when you finish, I expect you to fall on it."

***

"I couldn't help but notice that neither Nichol nor your friend were at the opera tonight." Dorothy crawled to position herself over Quatre's legs. She enjoyed the tight proximity of the back seat and how his hands rested along her hips. They'd left a few songs early to escape the crowd.

"I'm sure Trowa knows the city well enough to show a newcomer a good time," Quatre put his final words against her lips.

"Well, it seems like they'll have quite enough time to explore everything to their heart's content." Dorothy tilted her head so her hair made a cascade to one side. A brilliant light surrounded them then passed just as quickly. The pattern repeated again.

"Headlights," she murmured.

"I think you're missing your ride home," Quatre wryly watched for her reaction.

"Home? What's home?" Dorothy laughed. "I had much more fascinating incentive to stay."


End file.
